Five

Brian had given me a gift certificate to a spa as a Valentine's Day gift this year, so this morning I dropped Seth off (with PopPop) at a recreational center and went and had a pedicure. I'm not going to lie -- I like getting pedicures. I like the massage chair and the little hot tub for your feet, and I like getting to lay there while someone else scrubs off all the dry skin and rubs lotion on and then paints my nails. (Just in case you weren't aware of how a pedicure plays out...)

But ... isn't there something self-indulgent and ridiculous about getting a pedicure? I mean, really. We got a foot spa as a wedding present. Brian would rub my back for me, if I asked. I got a pedicure set last year for my birthday, so I have the tools at hand. I have forty-leven different kinds of lotions here, and several tres chic colors of polish. I could *totally* give myself a pedicure ... that is, if I felt like having the polish on my toes look like a baboon put it on for me. That part I don't do very well. So is that enough to justify making the drive and forking over the $50 for the pedicure?

Enh. I'm not really trying to be philosophical here. I'll let you decide.